


Sugar and Tea

by hostagesfic



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: F/F, Genderswap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-04
Updated: 2012-09-04
Packaged: 2017-11-13 12:43:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/503659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hostagesfic/pseuds/hostagesfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis makes an unconcerned noise, clicks away at her laptop. "Nice of him to never mention it, y'know, practically outing us at a concert months ago."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sugar and Tea

**Author's Note:**

> Set a bit before their return to America. Yes, we’re now taking on the time-space continuum. Both are cis!girls. Period fix-it fic. Title from "Cold Coffee" by Ed Sheeran.

“Tea’s gone cold,” Louis announces. “Did you know Emeli’s playing on the, uh, on the 5th? when is that? Wednesday? The iTunes festival, I mean.”

Harry hums, gets out from under the covers and holds out her hand for Louis' cup. Getting an electric kettle was a good investment for days like this. "All of it's streaming online, innit?" she asks, padding into the bathroom in her boyshorts and Louis' hoodie to dump out both teacups.

"Innit," Lou agrees, raising her voice a bit to be heard. "Been using that a lot lately, love. Turning into Ed, are we?" Harry makes a face as she comes out of the bathroom, and Louis sticks out her tongue.

"You saw the video," Harry shrugs, busies herself with refilling their cups with the little station they've set up on her bedside table, the kettle and a small pitcher of cream and sugar- for her, certainly not for Louis- and the tea box. "He says that happened awhile ago, though, it's odd that it's a thing now?"

She wraps her hand around one of the cups, lip between her teeth, and then brings it to her lower belly. The warmth feels good, soothes the bloated feeling between her hips.

Louis makes an unconcerned noise, clicks away at her laptop. "Nice of him to never mention it, y'know, practically outing us at a concert months ago. Any _how_ , shall we make it a date? For Wednesday?"

“We'll be in Los Angeles," Harry points out, because it could hinder any sort of plans, but she figures it wouldn't be a problem if they brought a laptop to their rehearsal space. Perhaps they could even ask Paul if they can have an hour or two off. Harry's optimistic, even if lately Paul's been extra immune to hers and Louis' pouts and puppy eyes. "But yes, it can be a date." She hands Louis her cup before getting back in bed, groaning a little. Her back pain's worse around this time of the month.

Louis takes a long sip of her tea before setting it and the laptop aside. "We can say we're dying of cramps. That'll fix Paul. And the boys. Budge over and I'll sit on your back, love?" She knows Harry's discomforted noises and what they mean by heart, now, always does her best to ease them.

Harry's on her stomach in record time, cheek pressed against the pillow and hands underneath it. "You'd think we could afford to not have shitty backs," she grumbles.

Louis clambers over to straddle the small of her back, settles on Harry's nonexistent arse and pushes the heels of her palms into her shoulder blades. "'s just you got so tall so fast, Haz. it'll get better."

"I never asked for it," she mumbles, but it's mostly lost in her little sounds of appreciation. Louis knows, by now, exactly what to do to ease Harry's back pain, among other things. "Right- fuck, perfect, Lou." 

Louis leans down to muffle a giggle and plant a kiss into the pale skin at the nape of Harry's neck, brushing curls aside with her nose and nipping a bit as she draws back, hands still working. "Always say that," she points out.

"Always _are_ ," Harry says, before she can stop herself. Maybe she can blame it on the hormones when Louis takes the piss. Surely there's no way she's always this cheesy.

"Mmm," Louis nods, sagely, and lets her get away with it, this once. (If 'this once' turns into 'always' more often than Lou'd like to admit, well. It's not like Harry'd call her on it.) "I am a fantastic lay slash personal masseuse."

"A catch, really," Harry agrees, and this kind of easy banter, too, is why she's so thankful for Louis- as a bandmate with three other boys in the band, a roommate and best friend, and then- and then the tiny bit more that makes goosebumps form across her forearms.

Louis rocks forward a little to curl her hands around Harry's shoulders, massage her neck. "As are you, my dear Hazza," she says, softly. "How's your tum? Taken your midol for the night?"

Harry whimpers into the pillow as Louis kneads at the tense muscles of her neck. She hums in agreement, and although the medicine hasn't kicked in, Louis certainly makes her feel better.

"Prolly sh'get some f'myself b'fore bed," Louis considers, and leans over Harry once more, settling her mouth into the curve of shoulder where her fingers had been kneading moments before. "Gonna b'able t'sleep with me, now, love?" 

Harry's response is a bit delayed as she reaches back blindly, trying to slip her hand into Louis' hair, even though it's in a messy bun. "Yesss," she confirms, nods a little against the pillow, suddenly that much sleepier.

Louis is immovable until she's satisfied that there will be a pretty new bloom of color to peek out the collar of Harry's tee-shirts tomorrow when she goes out with Nick. She presses a sweet kiss to the tender skin, and sits up, carefully sliding off Harry and to the floor, making her way to the bathroom to rustle through their drawers and make a general racket until Harry calls out, "Top left."

Harry presses her fingertips to the spot at her shoulder absentmindedly and then rolls onto her back, sprawling a little. She feels overdressed for bed, decides to shuck the hoodie but, with a frown to herself, keeps her underpants. When Louis gets back, she's got a knee up and a curl between her fingers, all pale skin and tired eyes, weighed down by dark, heavy lashes.

It's too late for pouncing or the playfulness that Louis would usually enact, but she crawls onto the mattress and leans over Harry, grin same as ever. "Hi, beautiful. You look well fit tonight." Her smile widens, as Harry obviously fights a yawn. "And sleepy."

With a little huff of effort, Harry leans up and pecks Louis' lips, finally gives into the yawn as her head falls back on her pillow. "'m tired." 

Louis rolls off her, mission accomplished, and snuggles into her side, slinging a thigh over Harry's hip. "Tired of hipstering about London?"

Harry frowns, still unsure as to _what_ exactly about her friends bothers Louis so much, but lets it go. "I'm preemptively tired for America," she explains, knows Louis will sympathize- they have an exhausting trip coming up, long rehearsal days for their VMA performance and, already, a thing or two for the new tour.

Louis hums understandingly, noses at Harry's throat and under her jaw until she turns for another kiss. She pulls the sheet up a bit and splays a hand out, flat, palm warm over Harry's lower stomach. "Sleep, then," she mumbles, close against Harry's mouth. "Love you, Haz."

Pecking at Louis' lips once more, Harry drapes an arm over her side and sighs, "Love you, Lou."


End file.
